


The Hurt and Heat

by jaybird_elliott2020



Series: Son of Robin [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Jason Todd, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Comfort, Comforting Dad Jason todd, Family Feels, Family Fluff, M/M, Nightmares, Omega Damian Wayne, Omega Tim Drake, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Teen Heat, Tim Drake is Damian's MOm, Trauma Informed Parenting, dad jason todd, first heat, heat - Freeform, past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:48:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25509271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaybird_elliott2020/pseuds/jaybird_elliott2020
Summary: Damian enters his first heat. His family is there to comfort him.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd
Series: Son of Robin [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1839805
Comments: 5
Kudos: 167





	The Hurt and Heat

Damian woke up early in the morning. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but Jason was surely puttering around in the kitchen, starting coffee and getting ready for his day job. Damian’s skin felt like it was trying to crawl away from him and he was hot. That was what had originally woken him up, but as he turned over to his side a painful cramp came to his lower belly. He whimpered a little bit and pushed his finger in bellow his belly button, hoping the pressure would relieve it. It didn’t help. The longer he shifted and tried to relieve the knots of pain in his stomach, the worse they became.

Deep down, Damian knew what was happening. His mother had always talked very casually and openly about his heats, answering any and all questions Damian asked him. There wasn’t any shame. No, what Damian felt was fear.

He waited until he heard Jason’s truck start to get out of bed.

Outside his room was dark and cool. It was mid-winter in Gotham and while the house did have heat, it only seemed to have effect on the bedrooms. Right now though, Damian was beyond grateful. He slowly padded down the narrow, short hall and down the steps to the second floor.

(When they bought the house after Damian’s little brother, Bash, was born, Jason remodeled the attic and made it into a loft bedroom for Damian. Damian had been ecstatic to have his own space. Jason liked the seeing Damian smile.)

The third door from the stairwell was still open from when Jason left that morning. Damian saw the outline of Tim’s body in the sheets, his mother having buried himself deep in the warmth. Next to him was a smaller lump that wiggled around and peaked it’s head in and out of the cocoon. Damian cracked a little smile.

He got close to the bed and pulled the comforter off the smaller lump, met with his little brother’s goofy smile.

“Dam-yen!” Bash squealed.

Damian quickly covered Bash’s mouth. “Shh,” he said, using his free hand to point to their sleeping mother.

Bash nodded his head, understanding what he was being told.

Damian removed his hand.

“I’m hungry,” Bash whispered, though his whisper was probably louder than his speaking voice. At least he wasn’t yelling, Damian told himself.

“Hang on,” Damian said. He leaned on the bed a little to peak over Tim’s outline and look at the alarm clock on the table. He hadn’t really thought to check the time in his room, it felt early.

5 AM. “It’s too early.”

Bash stuck his lip out and pouted. “I’m hungry,” he repeated.

He wasn’t really. He said he was hungry because it got him out of having to lay down and sit still and wait.

Then, before Damian could answer more sternly, he doubled over a little with another cramp. It was bad enough it made his knees weak under him, forcing him to sink to the floor. With his face, pressed into the side of the bed he whined a little loudly. He hadn’t intended to wake his mother, just crawl into his bed and let himself be comforted. But once the whine came, he couldn’t stop it. He chirped and whimpered and made all the distressed noises he could, willing his mother to wake up.

Thankfully, Tim stirred slowly and saw his younger son, the monster who had wiggled between him and Jason at two in the morning, wide awake and hanging over the side of the bed. He heard the noise that had Bash’s full attention and jolted up.

Damian forced himself to lift his head at the movement so his chin was on the top of the mattress and his mother could see him properly. He tried to give him a weak smile, but his lip wavered with another painful cramp, stabbing into his lower back and he left himself cry out a little.

Tim inhaled deeply and knew immediately what was wrong.

“Oh baby,” Tim whispered, climbing over the bed and joining Damian on the floor. He pulled his son’s head into his shoulder and ran his finger’s through his dark hair. Damian had taken to having his hair long, letting his curls puff out and dangle passed his chin. Tim teased him about it, but enjoyed Damian letting him play with it. “It’s alright,” Tim assured.

“Hurts,” Damian whined, pushing further into the comfort his mother offered. The touch eased him a little.

“Ok,” Tim said, his trying to train his voice not to show the slight panic he felt. “Ok, how about I run you a warm bath? Can you go lay on the bed?”

Damian nodded and leaned out of Tim’s arms, reaching up to the mattress and pulling himself to a stand. He crawled into the warm spot Tim left and pulled the equally warm blankets around his overheating body. Despite the feverish temperature he had reached, he enjoyed the residue of his mother’s body heat because it was accompanied by the comfort of his relaxing smell.

Bash was still on the bed, watching all of this unfold.

Tim reached out and brushed Bash’s equally wild curls off his forehead and gave him an apologetic smile.

“Can you help Mama out?” Tim asked.

Bash nodded, eagerly.

“Will you go a cuddle your big brother? He doesn’t feel good and he needs some good cuddles from you,” Tim said.

Bash nodded again and shimmed his way next to Damian, wrapping his little arms around Damian’s neck and letting himself be cradled in return.

“Thanks,” Damian mumbled, both to Tim and Bath.

Tim smiled a little and left his sons to run the bath.

Once he started the water, he took his phone off the bathroom counter where he had left it the night before. He opened Jason’s contact and called him.

“ _Hello?”_ Jason answered. He hadn’t looked at the caller ID, his voice was so gruff and serious.

“Hey,” Tim said, his own voice shaking a little.

“ _Hey,_ ” Jason replied, this time fondness seeping through the receiver. “ _What’s up? Why aren’t you sleeping?_ ”

“Damian woke me,” Tim said.

Before he can continue, Jason is audibly tensing. “ _Is everything alright?_ ”

“No, he’s fine,” Tim assured. “He just … well he started his heat.”

“ _Oh_.”

“Yeah. I just thought I should let you know. I’m keeping him from school, didn’t want you to get the call and think he ditched again.”

“ _Uh, thanks?_ ” Jason knew better than to believe that was why Tim _called_ him. This was text material if that. “ _You ok?_ ”

“No,” Tim mumbled, pressing the phone between his shoulder and ear to pour bubble bath in the hot water. “It’s too early. He’s not old enough for this.”

Jason chuckled. “ _He’s nearly fifteen._ ”

“Exactly. Too little,” Tim declared.

“ _Weren’t you_ thirteen _the first time you got yours?_ ”

Tim doesn’t respond.

“ _He’s our oldest_ ,” Jason reminded. A little flutter of protectiveness bloomed in Tim’s check when he said _our_. Jason had officially adopted Damian a few years ago, had been a father to him since before he and Tim were together, but Tim still felt jealousy. He wanted Damian all to himself. “ _Of course you’re in denial. God, I don’t think I’m quite ready to think about the weight of this—too early, not enough coffee—but don’t let that get in the way of taking care of him, alright?_ ”

Tim nodded. He didn’t think he would ever let his own feelings get in the way of taking care of his children, but he appreciated the gentle reminder. The affirmation that his feelings were warranted, but should be kept in check. “I will,” Tim said.

“ _You’ll tell me if you need me home?_ ”

“Course.” Tim turned the water off. “Be safe today?”

“ _Course_. _Pizza for dinner?_ ”

Tim laughed as he said it again: “Course.”

After hanging up with Jason, Tim went back into the bedroom and roused both his children from the sleepy daze they fell into in his absence. He instructed, Bash to stay in bed while he helped Damian up and across the room.

Damian stood uncomfortably by the tub while Tim got a towel for him, slightly arched over with his arms cradling his lower body.

“You want me to go?” Tim asked, setting the towel on the tile partition between the shower and the tub.

Damian paused before shaking his head slowly.

“You’re gonna have to take your clothes off,” Tim prompted.

Damian nodded and started to lift his shirt.

Almost instantly, Tim noticed the cuts. His heart broke, but he said nothing. This wasn’t the time.

Damian was silently grateful and finished undressing before getting in the tub and sinking under the water.

Tim knelt beside him. He held his hand out and ran it across Damian’s cheek.

“It’ll be ok, my love,” Tim assured him again. “The water should ease you a little bit. We’ll get some breakfast after and then take it easy today.”

“What about school?” Damian asked.

“Not today,” Tim said. “Or tomorrow. Two days off always, when you get heat.”

“Can … can I invite someone?” Damian asked. He didn’t often bring other people around their house. Jason could be intimidating, and Tim was often busy doing something or other, Damian sometimes felt like a bother.

Tim misunderstood, nonetheless. “Absolutely not.”

“NO!” Damian yipped. “Not like … not like _that_. I meant to just … ya know … hang out?”

Tim thought about this for a second before asking.

“Alpha?” he said.

Damian wanted to lie, but thought better of it, nodding.

“I don’t know,” Tim replied. “Can I think about it?”

Damian grinned a little, nodding his head again, a little more eager, a little more relaxed … a little more himself.

“’Kay,” Tim said, standing.

Damian whined at the loss of his mother’s touch.

“I’m coming back,” Tim assured.

Damian relaxed.

Tim left the bathroom and saw Bash settled into his bed, eyes lolling closed. He turned his head when his mother emerged, forcing his eyes open wider.

Tim chuckled and walked over to stroke Bash’s cheek like he had Damian’s. “It’s ok, close your eyes, Bash.”

He did just that.

Tim left his bedroom, walking down the hall and to the door next to Bash’s. He cracked the door a little and smiled when he saw that, at least, his daughter was still fast asleep.

~ ~ ~

Jason came home at lunch.

He couldn’t help himself. He spent most of his morning worrying. He spent all of his morning thinking about Damian.

He would text Tim every hour on the hour for updates on Damian’s condition.

First heats were dangerous. They often came with a flood of new emotions and new feelings and new sensations that the body could become overwhelmed by, entering a state of critical heat. It was common, but dangerous when not monitored properly.

Jason remembered Tim telling him about his first heat. He had been alone in his house, still living with the Drakes, and was upset and distressed the entire time, falling into critical heat within the first hour. He’d been found shivering and sweating and panting and _dying_ the next morning by the housekeeper.

So yeah, Jason worried.

“I can handle this,” Tim stated, when Jason came in and kicked his boots off by the door.

“I know,” Jason replied.

“You didn’t need to come home.”

“I know.”

Tim folded his arms and arched an eyebrow, silently asking, _Ok, so why the fuck are you here?_

__

“I just …” Jason trailed off.

Tim’s face softened a little.

Sometimes he really did forget that Jason was Damian’s dad. It was easy to forget they bonded, had been each other’s as much as Tim’s since he was born.

“Worried?” Tim supplied, reaching up and brushing his thumb under Jason’s eye, where a tear was sitting on the brim.

Jason nodded. “Worried,” he confirmed.

Tim nodded his reply as well. He understood.

“MAMA!” Bash’s shrilled voice bellowed, filling the whole house.

“Sebastian!” Tim barked back, swinging around. “What have I told you about screaming inside the house?!”

Bash stopped where he was coming around the corner, confronted with consequences. He looked up at Tim with wide eyes.

“Not too?” he mumbled.

“Right,” Tim said, firmly. He pointed to the corner. “Time-out, sir.”

Bash hung his head and sulked off to the corner.

Tim turned back to Jason.

“I honestly, don’t understand why I have to say everything a million times for him to understand,” he grumbled.

“He’s learning,” Jason said, gently.

“He’s working my last fucking nerve is what he’s doing, Jason,” Tim replied.

Jason laughed. “Never though Red Robin would be bested by a four-year-old.”

“Five,” Tim corrected.

“Right.”

Jason followed Tim into the living room where his oldest son was curled up on the couch. Damian’s head had raised when he heard his dad’s voice in the hall.

“Hey, big guy,” Jason said, walking over to the couch and sitting next to Damian.

“Hi,” Damian said, avoiding Jason’s gaze.

“Heard you weren’t feeling too hot,” Jason prompted.

“No,” Damian replied. He pulled his blankets around him tighter.

“Still hurts?” Jason asked.

Damian nodded.

“Where at?”

Damian pointed to his belly. “Stomach.”

“Mom make you tea?”

Damian nodded.

“Hot water bottle?”

Damian nodded.

“Did you … ya know?”

“Ew! Dad! Gross!” Damian yelped.

“I’m just asking! It’s a fair question! Isn’t it a fair question?” Jason looked up at Tim who was shuffling around the kitchen. Damian looked too.

“It’s a fair question,” Tim nodded, almost absent-mindedly.

Jason turned back to Damian.

“You don’t have to answer it,” Jason assured.

Damian paused, thought for a moment, and then shook his head.

“I didn’t.”

“Maybe, try that? Might make it hurt less,” Jason suggested.

Damian nodded, avoiding Jason’s eyes.

“Cool,” Jason breathed. “Now that _those_ awkward questions are out of the way, you want something to eat?”

Damian nodded.

“Prepare to have the most epic grilled cheese of your life!” Jason declared.

Damian grinned.

~ ~ ~

The hurt eased more when Damian was around his family. His mother would play with his hair, braid it, run his fingers through it, twist it around his pointer. His dad would put his arm on the back of the couch and let him lean into his side, relaxed. His brother would climb between them and let Damian wrap his arms around him. His sister even brought him stuffed animals from her bedroom for him to cuddle with.

They all eased the hurt.

~ ~ ~

Damian woke early again, this time screaming.

His belly cramps were less painful. He wasn’t crying out because of the pain. He’d had that nightmare again, which is what he’d been afraid of.

Jason and Tim come running into his bedroom, their weapons drawn, hair sweaty and wild from sleep.

“Damian?” Tim said, gently, lowering his bo staff first while Jason continued to scan the room with his gun.

Damian is hyperventilating. Tim’s voice sounds a little distorted, underwater.

“Damian!” Tim said, more stern and jarring. It made Damian jump and stare at his mother. “Is there someone here?”

Damian shook his head.

“ _Was_ there someone here?”

Damian shook his head.

Tim paused.

Jason lowered his gun and rubbed his free hand over his face, sighing. “Fuck,” he grumbled.

Damian flinched. “I’m sorry,” he started mumbling. “I’m sorry, sorry, sorry.”

He’d come out of the initial shock of the nightmare, returned to his body a little, and began crying.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed, curling around himself.

Jason and Tim come to his bed.

“Damian?” Tim prompted. “What are you sorry for?”

Damian had to take gulping breaths. He was trying. Really hard. He wanted to answer.

“Hey,” Jason said, stern and commanding. He startled both Tim and Damian with speaking. “Look here. At me.” Damian darted his eyes to him. “I’m gonna touch you, alright, just take your hands and put them on my chest. Kay?”

Damian nodded in acknowledgement.

Jason picked up his hands and placed them on his chest. He started taking deep, steady breaths. “Feel me. Follow me, Damian.”

Damian did.

“Good,” Jason praised. “Good. Now, let’s keep going. Let’s keep breathing. Just like this. I’m gonna let go.”

Damian stiffens a little, Jason releasing his hands. He keeps them on Jason’s chest.

“No, you gotta do it, now,” Jason said, guiding Damian to rest his hands on his own chest. “Come back to yourself.”

Damian held his own chest pitifully, his breath stuttering for a second before he fell back into a rhythm. It wasn’t as steady as Jason’s, but it calmed him, made his body feel less foreign. He was a little grateful too when the dull ache in his stomach came back.

When he stopped crying, when his breath wasn’t just a continuous gasp, when he was somewhat calm, Tim spoke.

“Can you talk?” he said.

“Yeah,” Damian replied, trying to prove he was able. The word had a taste. His mouth was dry and ashy. It tasted bitter between his lips.

Jason noticed his face wrinkle. He got up and grabbed the glass off the nightstand, going downstairs. He returned in a minute, full glass of water in hand and gave it to Damian.

“Drink,” he ordered.

Damian took the water with both hands and gulped it down. He rested it on his thigh when it was half finished. Jason shook his head.

“Finish it,” he ordered again.

Damian did.

Tim looked between his husband and son, wondering if they had done this before. If he had missed Damian’s panic attacks again, if he wasn’t there for him. He pushed the thought aside and looked only at Damian.

“Better?” Tim asked as Damian handed the glass back to Jason who disappeared again to refill it.

“Better,” Damian confirmed.

“Tell me about it?” Tim asked. It almost sounded like a plea.

“Same as always,” Damian said. “Same as before.”

“I can … If you tell me what it was, what happened, I can help. It’s not good to keep this in,” Tim said.

“I don’t … I can’t, Mom. It hurts.”

“Ok, ok. Then don’t. But don’t hold it in. Please. You gotta talk to someone.”

Damian shook his head and leaned forward to bury his face in Tim’s chest.

“I don’t want to. I don’t want to.”

Jason came back up the stairs. He set the glass on the nightstand rather than giving it to Damian. He sat himself on the edge of the bed.

“Damian, come here,” Jason demanded. His voice is steady and stern but there’s an underlay of hopeless worry in it.

Damian pulled away from Tim, looking at him. Tim nodded his head, encouragingly.

Damian moved so he was next to Jason, feet hanging over the edge and an inch of space between his hip and his dad’s.

“Listen,” Jason said, “you know I love you, right? I’d never do anything to hurt you? Or make you hurt?”

Damian quirked an eyebrow. He nodded.

“Good … I’m making you an appointment with my therapist,” he said.

Damian opened his mouth to protest.

“No,” Jason barked, holding his hand up. “You are strong, you’re brave, I _know_ that, I know that. But you _need_ to talk to someone. It isn’t … it isn’t good for you to keep this all to yourself. Don’t think I haven’t noticed my razors go missing. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the long showers. Don’t think I haven’t noticed! Because I have. Because your mom and I aren’t stupid. We just thought we could wait until you came to us. We thought we could wait. We can’t wait. I can’t wait. Not anymore. I’m not waiting until I find you …” his voice died in the room. The weight of the words unsaid. The weight of the words _said_. The weight of carrying all of that pain, all of that hurt alone, despite having someone trying to reach out to him.

Damian cried again. It was a bit softer. It was less all-consuming. It was less panicked.

Jason wrapped his arm around Damian’s shoulder, let him curl into his side.

“S’okay,” Jason mumbled, kissing Damian’s head. “I get it.”

Tim realized something then, watching them, listening to them.

Jason was so good with Damian in this moment, so understanding, so _perfect_ at reacting, knowing what Damian needed from him, because he had been Damian.

He had been abused, abandoned, carved hallow and filled again. He had rebuilt himself from a shell of a man, letting his memories drive him forward. He still had nightmares that left him sobbing. He had always understood Damian. He _was_ Damian.

Tim moved forward and settled in next to his son, wrapping his arms around his waist and kissing his shoulder. He held tight. He reached out and gripped Jason’s hand.

Damian is truly reminded then, pressed between his parents, watching their fingers lace together, that he doesn’t have to hurt alone.


End file.
